Habits of A Heart
by William Taylor
Summary: Arthur is in a happy (well, not sometimes) relationship with Francis, a beautiful, infuriating Frenchman until one night a secret comes up in their relationship cause Arthur to run out. In the night he meets someone who will change his outlook on love and life itself, as well as make him remember the past. Can he return to Francis after that?
1. Chapter 1

"I can't say no

It's ripping me apart.

You get too close,

You make it hard to let you go."

Arthur woke up to the bright morning sun streaming through the window and the birds chirping. He laid in bed trying to cling to the last shred of his dream. He grasped for everything, anything that remained of that feeling of hope and belonging. Of not trotting over eggshells constantly.

He certainly knew that his relationship was dysfunctional, but as he turned over sleepily to look at the beautiful man next to him he couldn't help but feel that nothing could be more perfect. He couldn't help but sigh as he pushed the golden locks out of his French lover's face and caressed his cheek.

"Good morning, love."

"Good morning mon cher." Francis said, yawning and stretching up into Arthur's touch. His blue eyes met Arthur's as he propped himself up for a kiss. It was nothing out of the ordinary and although nice, really… boring. He sighed and broke the kiss. It was like this every morning. He woke up, Francis woke up, they shared an unextraordinary kiss and then Arthur went for his shower and Francis went to make breakfast. Every morning the same routine. Blast it all, Arthur was tired of it.

But whenever he looked at Francis, thought of leaving him; it seemed impossible. He would

never be able to escape the French man's pull and he knew it. What could he possibly do? It's not like anyone else could even begin to put up with Arthur's moodiness and temper. Hell, it was a miracle that they had lasted this long with all the fights they got in.

He needed to get up so that Francis didn't ask him what was wrong, he didn't need to know about Arthur's doubts. But after five months… five months out of a total of twelve that they had been dating. Five months that they had been crumbling, that is. Francis was surely used to this behavior in the mornings.

"Well I'm off to the shower then. You need to use the loo?"

"No, I…" He looked like he was about to say something, but cut himself off, "Never mind. Have a nice shower Arthur." He got up and walked slowly out of the room, glancing for a moment back at Arthur who could only look on and think about what he could possibly say to stop him from leaving, to fix things with the man he had once loved so dearly.

Francis was late coming home again. It almost completely ruined the surprise that Arthur had spent hours preparing in an effort to apologize for what ever it was that had caused them to get like this. He considered phoning him when he heard footsteps outside his door. This was it.

Arthur rushed over to the entry way to wait for the door to open, surely the man would love that. He loved all forms of being doted on. "This will work for certain. I've prepared everything right enough. He's sure to love it." He mumbled with conviction. A romantic dinner (not much of it actually prepared by him, seeing as he was a terrible cook) with rose petals and candles was the base recipe for romance, was it not? Was he missing anything? Yes, the flowers! He had gotten flowers.

Arthur rushed back to his room to grab them and heard the door open behind him. He ran to find them as Francis took off his coat and hung it up, arriving right as the man stepped into the main room.

"Mon Dieu, Arthur. What is all this? Did you do all of this?" Francis said, eyes widening. Arthur rarely did romantic things in general, much less this kind of thing.

"Well I, I supposed I should at least try to do something nice, so I prepared something, um, romantic?" He hoped to God that this could be considered romantic. Now he was doubting himself. But Francis's shocked expression faded away to be replaced with a smile.

"Yes! Oh yes Arthur, this is very romantic thank you~" He all but ran over to plant a kiss on Arthur's lips. And this kiss wasn't well… boring. It was exuberant and happy and full of passion. A great kiss. One that caused Arthur to all but melt into Francis as he kissed back. And for the first time in a while, Arthur felt disappointed when Francis pulled away.

"Come on, mon amour, I want to see the rest of my surprise." He said with a grin, grabbing Arthur's' hand and waiting to be led around. Arthur fought the urge to lead him over to the couch to have another kiss and instead settled for kissing the Frenchman on the cheek as he led Francis to the first stop, and hopefully not the last, through the apartment.

As the entered the dining room he heard a small gasp from Francis, who had covered his mouth with one hand.

"Wha-what are you so shocked about? You and I both know that there's no way I cooked most of this, so there's no way it'll cause you to vomit. Did I do something wrong? Well I tried my best, but I'm sorry. If you want we can-" he was cut off by Francis kissing him.

"Cherie you worry to much. It's perfect. Shall we?" He gestured to the table. Arthur relaxed, if Francis thought something was wrong he would let Arthur know. He lead Francis around the table and pulled his seat out like a true gentleman. He locked eyes with the man as he sat, searching for the same spark that had been there earlier only to see it quickly and obviously dissolving as Francis started eating. Saying that it was delicious and ambling on about his day, not really meaning most of it and just talking to fill the silence. Arthur suddenly remembered why he didn't do stuff like this. Remembered that soddy attempts at romance didn't work as a band-aid for his relationships.

"You look distracted. Is everything alright Arthur?" Francis asked, looking worried.

"I'm sorry, Francis." Arthur blurted out. He didn't know how to say that he felt like a failure.

"Mon Deiu, for what? The apartment looks lovely and this dinner is lovely and you're … well you could be lovelier I suppose, but still." Francis said, sounding indignant.

"What's that supposed to mean? And you honestly don't know what I'm apologizing for? Seriously?" Arthur said, trying not to raise his voice and failing as the past several months of their relationship crashed down on him. All of the fights, the lack of chemistry, the lost passion and longing to have what they had back.

"No, obviously I don't! And there's no need to yell if you're trying to apologize for… whatever it is that you're apologizing for!" Francis rubbed his eyes, trying to keep tears from falling, "Now look. I'm fucking.. I'm crying. Why do you always do this you pompous BRAT?!" He ended yelling at the top of his voice.

"I don't know, maybe it's because-"

"Because what? What have you been doing these past few months that requires an apology Gambling, lying to me? Cheating? Or were you just apologizing for the mess you were about to make?" Francis yelled, cutting Arthur off.

"WOULD YOU LISTEN TO ME? I'm just trying to be honest about my feelings and you accuse me of cheating on you? Surely you would know me well enough to know that I would never do that!" Arthur yelled back, not noticing the tears on his cheeks. "I'm trying to fix things with us and you-"

"Just what needs fixing? I thought we were doing just fine until you started being moody and distant! Typical Englishman. Brooding about non-existent problems that he is causing!" Francis yelled "I want to know just what is wrong with you that you think something's wrong."

"THIS. This is wrong Francis! We shouldn't be fighting and-"

"Well then why did you-"

"Not everything is all my fault Francis! maybe you should take your head out of your arse and try and read the atmosphere. You know sometimes I think that the only thing you're good at is looking pretty and you're head is only decoration. Seriously, would you grow up?" Arthur yelled, trying to cut Francis down enough so that he could actually say what he needed to say without being interrupted by the blithering idiot. "Obviously something is wrong and yet you just deny it. For FIVE months! And yet instead of trying to fix the issues in out relationship you just deny it and make excuses! And you accuse me of cheating on you. Oh yes, like you're one to talk." Francis looked shocked through his tears. And Arthur knew he had struck a chord. Arthur lowered his eyes and tried to stem the flood of emotions when Francis stayed silent. He took a deep breath and continued softly,

"You and that Joan woman right? I've seen your texts to her on accident. I thought you were a better man Francis, really."

"Arthur…" Francis said, standing up and walking around the table to him. "I'm sorry that you saw my flirting and if that's what caused this…" He reached to touch Arthur's face, but Arthur jerked away.

"Flirting is just as bad Francis. I didn't want to believe it but… Oh lord, I need a drink. I'll text you in the morning but for now I think-" he choked back a sob. This was really happening. "I think we should take a break from each other." He covered his face, not wanting to see Francis's expression, and ran out the door, not even pausing to grab his coat.

As he slammed the door he heard Francis call out to him.

"Attendez! S'il vous plaît revenir! Je peux fixer ce problème! S'IL VOUS PLAÎT!"


	2. Chapter 2

"In a dark room in cold sheets

I can't feel a damn thing

I lost myself

Between your legs

Your medicine is in my head

You know I'd rather be alone

But then you call me on the phone"

Arthur ran until he found a bar; which honestly wasn't very far. He and Francis didn't live too far away from the main part of town. He hesitated briefly outside the building to survey it and catch his breath. It wasn't a high scale looking establishment, not too crowded, a bit run down. Perfect for drinking ones self stupid. Arthur entered, suddenly conscious of his tear-stained cheeks; he lowered his eyes as he asked the barkeep for a double of whiskey. The man obliged and got a glass.

"Bad day?" He asked sympathetically. Arthur just glared at him until he surrendered the liquor; he didn't want to talk about what was wrong, a fact that would surely change as the night went on, but Arthur was beyond caring at this point. He downed the glass I one swig and asked for two more. If he was lucky, he'd die of alcohol poisoning.

The barkeep, whom Arthur now noticed was tall and blonde, was keeping a wary eye on the distressed Englishman from behind the counter, obliging Arthur's requests for more. After a bit the man came over with a glass of clear liquid.

"The bloody hell is this?" Arthur asked.

"Water. You're either going to die or have the worst hangover on the face of the earth if you don't have some dude."

"Fuck off… dude" Arthur said, mocking the man's accent.

"Wow. Rude." The barkeeper said although he was stifling a laugh. "Seriously though, you need water. I don't want anybody dying in my bar, okay? And I can tell that you're probably gonna be here for a while."

He went over to pour a drink for another customer. Arthur just stared after him.

"Just you d'you think you are?" Arthur said, turning to face the man

"Alfred Jones, professional bartender, burger flipper and student." He said not pausing in his rhythm as he poured out three shots of different liquor. It was really quite impressive, but Arthur was too disgruntled to focus on the man's abilities.

"Oh really? What a depressing profession." He said, smirking.

"Well yeah, I have to listen to drunk bastards like you tell me about all their woes. And then I think the other two speak for themselves." Alfred said with a chuckle.

"I'll have you know my parents were happily married before I was born so by all rules and definitions I am not a bastard." Arthur declared, "And I'll have another please."

"You make a valid point my drunken friend. Water first. Finish that and I'll bring you another, dude."

"M'name's Arthur, not dude." Arthur mumbled, polishing off the water and watching Alfred get him another drink. And another, and another. Eventually Alfred just decided to leave the bottle.

Arthur sat, content to drink himself into oblivion as the nights long hours ticked on, mumbling to himself about all that he did wrong and sometimes striking up drunken conversation with other customers. Occasionally Alfred would check in on him.

He thought and he drank, and he disliked the thoughts so he drank some more and thought more, continuing until every thought blurred into the next one in a wonderful soupy mess. His head shot up from where it had been laying on the counter, looking for someone to talk to and finding the bar area completely empty save for a few guys who were unconscious.

"Why does everybody leave me" He said, lowering his head onto the counter and letting himself sink into a habitual loneliness before a voice interrupted his melancholy.

"I don't know man, I've been wondering the same thing." The barkeep went over to Arthur from where he had been talking to a few customers in a booth.

"What in hell d'you want now?" Arthur slurred angrily. He wasn't actually that upset to have someone to talk to, but the man was annoying and had been taking to him all evening.

"Just to talk. You seem to be kind of upset." Alfred stated nonchalantly.

"Thas an understatement, that is." Arthur grumbled, tracing the rim of his now empty glass

"If I may, what's got you trying to drink yourself to death?"

"S'none of yer business." Arthur stated, resolute.

"Well al-"

"Well seeing as you insist on knowing the whole story I guess I've got to eh?" Arthur slammed his palm on the table, resolute again.

"So 'bout a year ago I met a stupid man who was beautiful and horrible and I love 'im and we were together but then our relationship went sour and he's flirting with other people and I'm fairly certain he hates me now and I'm not, I don't… Bullocks Alfred why's my face wet?" He said, feeling his cheeks and looking at Alfred as if he could explain these strange happenings. Alfred shook himself out of his surprise, staring at the man few a second than grabbing a tissue.

"It's probably because you're crying man." He said, handing Arthur the tissue. "What makes you think he hates you?"

"We fight all the time an iss horrid. And he flirts witthat Joan woman and he's jus really annoying. An he's really…. He's really pretty though. An romantic an good at cooking…" Arthur lost himself in thoughts of the good times he had shared with Francis.

"Do you really love him, or are you just attracted to him?" Alfred questioned absentmindedly.

"Well of course I'm attracted to him! But I… Whaddo you mean?"

"Well you can't really love someone without loving all of them, can you? I mean, if you can only love certain things about a person, but not the rest of them than what's the point? Sure parts of a person can be wonderful, amazing, beautiful, Everything you ever dreamed of; but you don't love someone unless you embrace their not-so-wonderful bits." He looked around nervously, and laughed uncomfortably, "That's what I think anyway."

Arthur stared at the bizarre man leaning on the counter next to him. How did he just spout off all of that and dismiss it so casually? He sat back in his seat, trying to wrap his head around both his own love life and this strange barkeep who seemed to know so much about human relations.

He loved Francis, right? Or was he really just infatuated? Arthur groaned and lowered his head onto the bar again. This wasn't a topic to tackle whilst drunk, but he was going to anyway. He thought back to when he had first met Francis.

It was a brilliant day to visit Paris. And he had three whole days to tour around and gather information for his final project. What a grand deal! World renowned food, thriving nightlife, and beautiful scenery Arthur stopped to admire the beauty all around him he couldn't help but think that people were right when they said that Paris was magical. Arthur leaned his head backwards, trying to soak in the pleasantness of the sun. It really was a beautiful day.

"Excusez-moi monsieur, avez-vous un stylo je pourrais emprunter?" A voice suddenly spoke to him. It was very distinctively musical in a way, as if it were implemented with honey. Arthur turned to the man who had spoken. However he had sounded, it was obvious that he wanted something.

"A…pen?" Arthur cursed his shoddy French. Here he was talking to; Oh God he was handsome. Arthur stared at him for a moment, wondering how a human could possibly be so attractive before he cleared his throat and lowered his eyes, "I um… I apologize, my French is not the best. I have a pen here." And now he was standing there like a fool, arm held out to the Frenchman. He avoided eye contact with the man at all costs, not quite sure what was causing him to act like this. After a bit he dared a glance and, by God the man was staring at him!

"W-what are you looking at? Are you going to take the damned pen or not? I don't have all day!" Arthur said with a huff, turning his head so that the man couldn't see the blush creeping up onto his face. The man continued staring for a moment before smiling and taking the pen from Arthur, switching to English when he next spoke.

"I was looking at you. You seem very…. Intriguing. What's your name? How long will you be in town for?"

"Well it hardly concerns you…" He said, turning to glare at the man and instead got caught up in his gaze and found himself answering the mans question, "I'll be in town for three more days. And my name is Arthur. Not that I should be telling you seeing as I don't even know your name and you are quite-"

"Francis." the man interrupted excitedly.

"Excuse me?" Arthur said, staring at the man.

"My name is Francis. Can I see you again later? I could show you around~ Here," Francis said, digging out a piece of paper and madly scribbling down a number, "This is my number. I have to go but perhaps you could give me a call, Arthur. Au revoir~" He called back over his shoulder, flinging his coat over his shoulder.

Arthur could only stare at the crumpled piece of paper and turn beet red as the most beautiful, confusing person he had ever met walked away.

* * *

 **Excusez-moi monsieur, avez-vous un stylo je pourrais emprunter: Excuse me sir, do you have a pen I could borrow?**

 **Listen to the song here: watch?v=XafcPTz0454**


	3. Chapter 3

"Oh the habit's of my heart

I can't say no

It's ripping me apart

You get too close

You make it hard to let you go…"

Arthur started as he was shaken awake by an unknown source. Where was he? The brit started to look around and found himself staring directly into beautiful blue eyes that could only be….

"Francis?" He started, eyes and brain hazy with sleep and alcohol. The face backed up, startled and Arthur was disappointed when he saw that it was only the American bartender.

"Nah man, I'm Alfred. You feeling alright? You passed out." Arthur groaned and rubbed his face.

"Well yes, thas obvious." He blinked and looked around. "Where's everyone?"

"You're the last one here dude, and you seem to be in rough shape. Do you have a way to get home tonight or..?" Alfred cocked his head to the side, he seemed genuinely concerned for the Englishman's health

"Whassit matter to you, you intrusive wanker? Bessides, I've got no home to return to." He spat out, standing up. Suddenly everything was in shambles and the world was spinning and somehow he had ended up on the floor of the bar which was, in fact, very empty.

"Shit dude! Are you okay?" Alfred ran around the counter to help Arthur up, and Arthur could only laugh at the absurdity of the statement 'are you okay?' For god's sake, he was on the floor of a rundown bar drunk off his ass and laughing and crying.

"Why do, Alfred why'd people ask if everything's okay when nothing's ever okay?" Arthur chuckled out, "I don't- oops" He had stumbled into Alfred's arms, "I'm sorry, how clumsy of me. I really must be going. I don want to be trouble" He said, stumbling instead towards the door. He didn't know where he was going, but right at the moment he felt like going home.

"Do you even have a place to sleep?" Alfred asked, grabbing the drunk's arm. Arthur screwed up his face. He had been going to go to his flat. But he didn't really want to see Francis right now… However nice that memory had been, the feeling wasn't going to be reality when he got home.

"What's it matter?" He said, glaring at Alfred. It really wasn't any of the man's business, and Arthur had no idea why he was going out of his way to make sure Arthur was okay.

"Well, I can't just let you sleep on the street, can I?"

"Well whaddo you do with the other ones?" Arthur asked, staring at Alfred, confused.

"Most of the other guys who come in here and get drunk are regulars and I know where they need to go at night, so I usually give 'em a ride. But I don't know anything about you, so I dropped them off and left you here…" His voice trailed off as he noticed how Arthur was looking at him. He cleared his throat and continued. "Besides, it's raining and it doesn't seem like you have a place to stay right now any ways, so." A small blush started creeping onto the Americans face, but Arthur didn't take too much notice of it because he was too busy trying to comprehend how a human being could be so… _**nice**_ to other people. People were gross and depressing, even more so when they were drunk. Arthur stepped closer to Alfred, searching in his eyes for the answer to the question.

Alfred's blush spread even further across his face as the man got closer, but he met Arthurs rather intense stare until the man backed up.

"How the hell are you so **nice**?" Arthur said, sounding defeated.

"Is that what that thing just now was about?"

"Yeah. I jus don't understand it. No one's this nice to complete strangers." Arthur suddenly looked at Alfred, his eyes wide. "Are you a fairy or something?" He continued in a lowered voice.

"Alright, it's time for sleep buddy. C'mon let's get you outside. You can sleep on my couch."

"You ARE, aren't you?" Arthur giggled, letting Alfred lead him to his car before passing out

* * *

Arthur woke up the next morning to the smell of bacon, the sound of jaunty whistling, and the sensation of a wicked hangover. He figured that Francis was cooking him breakfast. Groaning, he tried to roll over and sleep longer, but ended up falling off of the couch with a loud crash.

"WHAT THE HELL?" He yelled as he crashed into an unfamiliar coffee table, knocking over a vase of flowers and a stack of magazines in the process.

"Oh good! You're up. " Said a cheery, very NOT Francis voice from the kitchen. Where was he? Arthur sat up and tried to remember what had happened last night and his stomach dropped sickeningly as he remembered why he had gone out and gotten shitfaced in the first place. He could not, however, remember who's house he was at or how he had gotten there.

A quick check made it apparent that he was still fully clothed and still had his phone and

wallet, so at least he and whoever it was hadn't done anything and he hadn't been robbed.

"You were pretty drunk last night dude." The voice called again, coming from A tall, rather muscular blonde with glasses who strode in giggling and carrying a plate and a glass filled with red liquid. Arthur tried to place the man from last night and let out a sigh of relief when the pieces clicked together in his mind. This was the nice young barkeep… Alfred. Alfred was his name.

Alfred set down the plate and drink next to Arthur and went about setting the coffee table back into place and starting to clean up the mess. Arthur looked on and debated on whether or not to help him. Surely he should, he had made it after all. He leaned forward, an action that caused his head to hurt. He had probably drunken a little _too_ much last night, but that didn't matter. He determinedly started sorting the magazines.

"Oh, you don't have to do that dude, I got it." Alfred said with a glance at Arthur.

"I made the damn thing, I should help pick it up." The Brit grumbled. Although it was tempting to sit back and eat his toast and bacon, his pride had gotten the better of him. He was going to help!

He stopped cold when Alfred brushed his hand away, saying "Dude seriously, I got this."

"I can't just let you mother me, we barely know each other." Arthur retorted, the phrase bringing back a memory.

* * *

"Francis, stop it. We barely know each other." Arthur scoffed, trying to hide the blush creeping onto his face. He hadn't known that letting the Frenchman help him cook would be so… flirtatious.

"Oh, but mon cher you are so hopeless!" Francis said, letting his hands drop from the shorter man's and instead wrapping them around the man's middle. He rested his chin on Arthur's shoulder and sighed, "You are really quite bad at this mon amour…"

"Stuff it." Arthur said, torn between smiling like a loon and swatting the man off of him. He ended up just shaking his head, muttering profanities returning to trying to chop, no dice the vegetables correctly.

"A-and to get this straight, I am not "your love". As I said before, we barely know each other." He stuttered out, knowing full well that his cheeks were cherry red as he said it. Francis just stared at him, pulling away a hand and using it to turn Arthur's head towards him. Arthur suddenly forgot his embarrassment as he met Francis's eyes. It had been three days of seeing each other constantly, and yet he still got lost in those beautiful blue eyes every time. He turned his head away from Francis, who was still hugging him, put down his knife and turned himself towards Francis, intent on pushing the man away. But as he turned he found himself in a kiss. A kiss that made his body seem filled with electricity. A kiss that he returned without thinking, closing his eyes and letting his hands come to rest on Francis's chest. It lasted forever, but not nearly long enough before Francis pulled away.

"Arthur…" Francis said, letting his hands tangle in Arthur's hair "You are my love. Je taime, Arthur." Arthur just stood there, shocked both from the magical kiss, and the tender confession from this heart stopping, infuriating, breath taking, perfect man that followed it. Then he met those eyes, those wonderful, hopeful, tender eyes and the barrier that he'd tried to put up crumbled completely.

He stepped forward and kissed the man again, only stopping to whisper "I love you too."

* * *

Arthur opened his eyes to find Alfred only inches from him, staring concernedly at his face.

"WHAT IN HELL ARE YOU DOING?" He yelled, backing up against the couch, Alfred staring at him, obviously confused.

"I was making sure you were alright dude." The man said, tilting his head to the side, "You are alright, right?" He asked, leaning backwards. Arthur blinked hard and took a breath.

"Yes, Alfred. I'm fine. You really shouldn't worry about me. I'm a complete stranger. Also, I wasn't absolutely terrible last night, was I? I'd hate to be a bother…"

"Nah. I mean, you accused me of being a fairy man and cried a lot about someone named Francis. But other than that you didn't do much except sleep." Arthur muttered a slew of apologies to the man and ate the breakfast before he realized that his phone had been ringing the entire time.

* * *

 _Author's Notes: mmmkay, so I know it's been awhile since I updated, but keep in mind that I'm making this up as I go (poor planning on my part, but oh well) I'll probably update like, once a week. Maybe every monday. I'm also starting work on another fic (probs gonna be Gerita, you've been warned.), but of course this one will take priority till I finish it~_

 _Thanks for reading it!_


	4. Chapter 4

"Yeah I tell myself, I like that

When you tie my hands behind my back

You're confident I'll give you that

But if you love yourself, you can fuck yourself

'Cause I'd rather be alone

But you've fermented in my bones"

Arthur stared down at his phone in disbelief as it buzzed in his hands. Francis, beautiful, horrible, "flirting" Francis was calling him for what appeared to be the hundredth time this morning. He waited for the call to voicemail and then quickly dialed in the number to get to it.

"Arthur please, I'm sorry. Mon dieu, you are making a big deal out of nothing. Pick up your phone!" Arthur stared at his phone and back at the man sitting across from him, completely unsure of what to do to deal with Francis.

"I'm guessing that that was the infamous Francis?" Alfred questioned.

"Yes…" Arthur paused. He had come to like Alfred from their conversation over breakfast. The lad was barely 21, seemed to have an annoyingly boundless amount of energy and positivity, and wanted to be an astrophysicist of all things. Looking at him, Arthur decided he could do worse for advice and decided to confide in him. "Yes, that was him. He think's I'm making a fuss out of nothing, but I don't think I am." Arthur groaned frustration. Of all the things that had happened between he and Francis, nothing had ever gone on to this extent.

"Well I suppose you should tell him how you feel? I don't know dude, I'm not real great at this stuff either. A lot of people think I'm annoying."

"You are annoying," Arthur sighed, "But I don't know if we could get through an honest conversation about our relationship without yelling.

"Welllll what's been going on lately?" Alfred said, getting up to wash his breakfast dishes. "Maybe if you can make it clear to me, you can make it clear to him!"

"He's been dafter than you are lately, Alfred. So I doubt that would help." Arthur followed him with his own dishes, handing them to Alfred when he stuck his arm out for them.

"I feel like I've been insulted." Alfred said, glaring at Arthur before turning on the sink and starting to scrub.

"That's because you have been, you twit. Anyways I'm not sure I can even describe it. It's just that something's been off these past few months." He groaned and rubbed his temples. Getting drunk had been a dumb thing to do and he was certainly regretting it now. Arthur couldn't even begin to imagine trying to deal with Francis with a hangover. He didn't think his poor head could handle the yelling.

"Oh. Burnt out?" Alfred said sympathetically. Arthur just looked at him. What the hell did that mean? Seeing Arthur's confused expression, Alfred quickly continued,

"Your relationship's burnt out dude. Oh don't look so indignant, it happens to the best of us. I'm guessing that you two started off young and in love, had a glorious few months of honeymoon period and now you're finding that it lacks that special 'spark' right?" Alfred spat out bitterly, as if he spoke from experience. "And now you want to fix things, but obviously this Francis guy's oblivious to whatever's wrong, or at least pretending to be, or getting a fix of romance somewhere so that he's satisfied when he's home," Alfred paused in his vigorous scrubbing and shook his head.

Arthur was hung over and exhausted and not prepared for the reality that his relationship was crumbling. He didn't want to let Francis go, and the same was true on Francis's side if last night's argument was anything to go off of. But the point wasn't that they weren't going to let each other go, or that they were once so passionately in love, or even the general douche bagginess of the two towards each other. The point was that Arthur loved the man still, and that the bastard was too self absorbed in his own little perfect Francis-world to even notice that anything was wrong. And Alfred, who seemed to be a new friend for better or for worse, was obviously caught up in some bad memories.

"What's with you?" Arthur asked, he'd doubted that Alfred could even swear at someone, and now he was seething about something whilst scrubbing the dishes to hell and back. "That poor plate's going to shatter." Arthur warned as Alfred started scrubbing even more harshly on the plate. The man just stared out the window as if he hadn't heard, and hell, maybe he was so caught up in what he was thinking about that he hadn't.

"Alfred." Arthur said, touching him on the arm, "What the devil is the matter?" Alfred yelled and jumped at the touch, dropping the plate and nearly falling at he slipped on some water that he spilled. Arthur couldn't stifle the laugh that rose up out of him as he watched the man swing around a wet dish rag in a panic and tried not to fall on his arse.

"JESUS CHRIST ARTHUR YOU SCARED THE TITS OUTA ME!" He screamed, which only made the Brit laugh harder.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Arthur said, trying to get his giggles in check. "That was hilarious, I'm sorry. Are you… Are you quite alright?" He wiped his eyes and looked at the younger man who was understandably glaring at him.

"Yeah, I guess. Just caught up in memories I suppose."

"Oh? About who?" Who could've done something bad enough to Alfred to make him disappear into his own mind so completely?

"Oh, uh. My mom. She cheated on my dad and their divorce was really messy."

"My condolences." Arthur had never been through a divorce, his parents were too dependent on each other to ever separate and Arthur himself had never been married. He guessed that it was horrible, especially on the children involved.

Alfred looked about to say something as Arthur's phone started buzzing again. Both men looked at the thing buzzing on the counter as if it were going to explode.

"You going to answer? Sounds like the dude's really frantic. That or he's super pissed." Alfred said, nodding sagely. Arthur figured he'd better get it over with. He reached out to the phone and tentatively pressed the answer call button.

"Francis?"

"Arthur! You finally answer me, where the hell are you? You said you'd call this morning and then you never did! I was worried you might have gone and gotten yourself killed! And what the hell was that about last night? Are you alright?" Francis shot off in rapid fire French. Arthur wasn't sure he was glad of Francis's worry about him, but he answered.

"I'm at a friends' house, he picked me up from the pub last night. I just woke up," Arthur decided that to spare Alfred the details and keep Francis from yelling, he should stick to French. It would just be simpler for all of them. "Why the hell are you so worried about me?"

"Because even though you are a thick-headed idiot whose eyebrows and personality are horrendous, we've been together this long and at least you should work through your issues." Arthur thought about getting mad over the insults, but he really didn't want the yelling to happen.

"You have issues too, Francis. We have issues, Francis. They are not just mine, we share them, idiot. I have a bad hangover at the moment, but if you'd like I can come over this evening and we can talk through this."

"Je t'aime, Arthur." Francis said hopefully.

Arthur couldn't bring himself to say it back. He ended the call and sighed. He really was being a prick to Francis, but the fact of the matter was; He just wasn't sure if it was true anymore.

* * *

Okay I know this was a short, lame chapter. And I'm sorry, but I swear I'll make it up to you guys in the next one.

 **EDIT: Okay so I know I promised to update every Monday, but this week has been more than a lil hectic because my family's been busy with preparations for my brother coming home. I'm sorry, I'm going to work on it as soon as I can, and it should be up in a few days.**


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